you think you can tell heaven from hell?
by The Cinder Crown
Summary: 'Why don't you come and fly with us? The heaven is beautiful today.' :: Ariana[Gellert]. Triggers for maltreatment. dark. suicide. tragedy.


**A.N.:** Prompts at the bottom; Trigger warning!

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 **you think you can tell heaven from hell?**

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"She's crazy! Crazy…!"

The first thing you do when you hear these angrily shouted and frustrated words is shut your eyes. You know they're talking about you. Discussing, debating, desperately trying to search for an idea, for something – _anything_ – that will change things. _(change you)_

They don't know you can hear them through the thick wooden kitchen door they had slammed shut behind them. No, both your older brothers are oblivious to the fact that you wander around the house or that, in fact, you are still a member of the family, hidden in the dusty shadows. Although, in these times, you sometimes doubt it yourself because it simply doesn't feel like the warm, caring and loving family you used to grow up with.

You swallow hard when the yelling increases and cover your ears with your small hands. You don't like it – at all. You don't want to cause any trouble – you never had – so you go out of their way and try to be invisible. _(though most of the time you already are)_

The screaming and shouting hurts your soul. The already shattered and damaged heart inside your chest hammers heavily and aches every time your name is mentioned.

Still, you are – almost – a grown girl, so you pull yourself together the best way you can. You take a deep breath and think about the time when you got attacked by those muggle boys. Instantly, a shiver runs down your spine and the air is sucked out of your lungs. You feel it immediately; like it happened only a couple of days ago – the pain, the hits, the bruises and cuts. _(the suffocating fear)_

You shake your head vehemently and use your finger to brush away the tears that fall from your blue eyes – the eyes that used to twinkle in sunlight. Now they are empty and hollow – like all the rest of you.

The worst about this situation, however, aren't the dreams you repeatedly have about that fateful day so long ago; no, you have accepted it long ago that they had taken a part of your sanity with them and that you can't do anything to get it back. On the contrary, it scares you a lot more that both your brothers regard you as nothing more but a burden on their way of their greatness. (Just another liability that needs to be taken care of in order to reach eternal glory)

…

Time passes slowly – too slowly – and only little changes. Evergreen trees that blossomed in the spring now shake of their leaves that are painted in golden colours. It all looks so peacefully, as you watch them fall to the ground, but you are well aware of the fact that it is nothing less but an illusion – the warmth, the light, the feelings of comfort that swings along vanish as soon as you tear away your glance from the window of your room where your brothers have locked you up in. (imprisoned)

"It's just to keep you away from harm," you hear them say in a sugary-sweet voice. Their gestures and mimics, however, tell a different story.

" _It's just to keep you out of our way,"_ is what they really mean.

You watch them as they close the door. You want to move forward, to push them out of the way as hard as possible and just run out of the house as fast as you can. You want nothing more but to escape this hell.

But you don't move – you don't dare to move.

You stare at the door that separates you from the outside world because you're too afraid that you end up hurting someone – or worse, kill.

You're too scared that history's going to repeat itself and you eventually kill your brothers. _(like you killed your mother)_

…

Months go by, and you have no other company but your own mind – or what is left of it. Sometimes, you don't even know whether this is your own mind anymore or already someone else'. Still, you keep talking; to yourself, the wall, the non-moving-pictures of long forgotten ancestors, and sometimes, you open the window to have a small conversation with the birds.

" _Why don't you come and fly with us,"_ a delicate little blue bird whispers into your ear as he lands on the windowsill.

You regard him for a moment – asking yourself if you have imagined it all.

" _The heaven is beautiful today,"_ another one chirps in a lovely and pure voice.

Looking out of the window, you breathe in the fresh morning air and with a soft smile on your lips you climb out – then you jump.

…

For a short moment, you feel free – like wings have grown on the small of your back that lift you high up in the air on the many clouds above you.

Then, pieces of your common-sense return; your blue eyes widen in fear as you realize that you're not flying, but in fact, falling.

Fear rises inside of you, you move your arms and legs – desperately trying to control something that helps you get back to the ground safely.

Then it's too late – and you feel your skin and bones collide with the cold stone floor.

…

When you wake up, your head is spinning, your skin is ruptured and scars decorate your once so delicate skin.

Apparently your brothers have taken you back in your room – your bed – but did nothing but treat the most necessary wounds. Her arm is still twisted in a weird angle.

Then, you once again see the blue-birds on the out side; you walk towards the window – the temptation too great to resist it. You open it, the fresh air is streaming into your face, but as you reach out to stuck your hand out to touch the bird, your hand gets burned. Shocked, you retreat it and blink away your tears.

…

Within time, you get used to being treated like a prisoner in your own home. You even laugh about the rumours you hear from people that walk on the street right underneath your window.

"Is it true?"

"The story about the girl?"

"I guess."

"She's really dead?"

"That's what they say around here."

"Did she really jump?"

"It seems like it."

"How horrible. She was so young."

"I guess…"

You just sit on the windowsill for a couple more minutes to watch the women leave; albeit, your hands are balled into fists and you only tear your glance away when you feel your nails pierce sharply into your flesh.

Blood drops to the floor, but the physical pain is nothing compared to how your mind spins inside of your head.

 _Dead. Dead. Dead._

Although you don't want to, you keep repeating it over and over again. The words burn themselves into your brain until it hurts.

That's when you can't hold it anymore and the tears fall down the same way your life is falling apart.

…

In the middle of a cold winter's night, when the door to your room opens unexpectedly.

Streaks of candlelight illuminate parts of your room and you watch the silhouette of a tall man sneak into your room.

Once upon a time, you would have screamed, shouted or yelled – anything to get your brothers' attention.

Now, you just remain silent underneath your covers. You should be afraid, but really, you don't care what's going to happen next.

So you don't scream.

 _(You already have too many voices screaming inside of your head)_

All you do is watch and wait until the young man approaches your bed and lets himself fall upon it with a small sigh.

You feel his body on top of yours, but before you can react, the man jumps up again – obviously startled even more startled than you are.

He stumbles backwards, fishes the wand out of his robe and soon after, the tip starts to glow in a bright light.

The glowing wand is pointed right at you – it's so bright that it's blinding you and you have to blink a couple of times.

"Who are you?" you hear the man whisper – his irritated voice amuses you in a weird way.

You don't really know what to respond, although the question was actually an easy one to answer. Eventually, you feel your lips moving and you hear your own voice – rusty and fragile for you haven't used it for days.

"Ariana," is all you say and you watch as the man's dark brown eyes widen in surprise.

For a moment, he doesn't speak, and it kind of irritates you. You wonder what he might be thinking about. Or better, what it was worth thinking about for so long.

"I got the wrong room," you hear him mention casually.

Your eyebrows rise in confusion. You did not expect him to say something like this.

 _(Actually, you did not expect him to talk to you at all)_

"A lot of people get lost in this house," you say with a shrug. _'Including yourself'_ , one of the many voices in your head adds with a cackle.

…

His name is Gellert. Or that's what he's told you.

You don't know yet what to think of him – he's a friend of your brother's, drops by frequently, but doesn't forget about you.

Ever since he stumbled in your room accidently, he returns to talk to you. He doesn't help you escape from your hell of a room – you doubt he could lift the many spells from her door or window anyway – but he talks to you. Which is something your brothers quit years ago. His smile is soft, and his brown eyes are lit by the dim light of the candle he always brings when he visits you during the late night hours. When he's with you, you forget about life for a moment and sometimes, even the voices in your head leave you alone.

You have no idea why he continues to come. You often ask yourself what he gets out of it and one day you even speak that question out aloud.

"Can you tell heaven from hell?" he answers, and you wonder what he means with that.

…

He tells you all about your brother's ideas. You listen, but never comment. Voicing opinions is for people in the spotlight, not for squib-like witches that are forced to live in the shadows.

Gellert mentions 'the greater good' and the look in his brown eyes, when he glances out of the window into the night is as haunting as it is beautiful.

You shake your head because you are getting too attached. You like it when he's with you, when he tells you about everything that's going on in the world you are no longer a part of. You enjoy it when he's close to you, when he gestures wildly, and his hands accidently touch yours.

Feeling another person's skin on your own is something you cherish – long for. In your isolation you'd give anything for it. But you've learned from your mistakes. You experienced first hand how painful it is to get attached to someone.

In addition, you don't trust yourself. You are not sure whether or not to believe in the feelings inside of you because they may or may not be just another illusion.

So you keep your distance.

 _(At least you try to)_

…

You distance yourself – physically and emotionally – the best way you can whenever he's around. That is, until he comes to you unexpectedly, in the early morning hours.

 _(he only ever comes at night)_

He's upset, you can see it in his eyes; they're blazing angrily and he's pacing in your little prison.

You listen to everything he has to say: the witches and wizards that don't agree with him and his ideas, the muggles that keep killing innocent magical folks, the visions he has about a better future and the tales about the Deathly Hallows that, in his opinion, are more than just stories and perhaps the key to all their problems.

You hear him out, until he stops mid-sentence and just stares of you; his face showing a mixture of surprise, wonder, amazement and doubt.

He continues his tale, and rants on about how your brother – your dearest brother who usually doesn't care about anyone but himself – suddenly changed his mind and now wants to protect people.

You can't help it but give a dry and sarcastic cackle. Your heart aches painfully when you think about how your brother pretends to care for people – and gives up the chance to gain glory and power – when all he's ever done for you was to provide a prison with a magical window that burns you every time you try to reach for the outside.

Then, Gellert asks you a question – a question he had already asked a couple of years back – and finally you know the answer to it.

"You can only shine when there's someone standing in your shadow" you say in a croaking, but strong and partially angry voice – the anger about your brother and the way he treated you all those years is slowly but steadily surfacing.

It seems like Gellert notices the shift in your mood – or the uncontrolled magic that bursts from the tips of your fingers.

But like everyone else, he doesn't back away. He mumbles a spell that covers his hands in a cloud of golden smoke and takes your hands in his.

 _(His touch feels like fire on your skin)_

…

When Gellert is with you the next time, the voices in your head have grown and increased their volume. There is something different about Gellert. You cannot really tell what it is; his blond hair, his brown eyes, his muscular body are all still the same.

 _Heaven. Hell. Heaven. Hell._

He tries to distract you, tells you once again about some of his ideas – but it's not enough to calm you.

Then he says something that gets your attention. You look up – blue eyes meeting brown ones and you know that it's the way he looks at you that has changed. It's still soft, and caring, but there's a hint of sadness that hasn't been there before.

You are not sure if he really meant what he said, but the way he looks at you when he places his strong arms around you there's no other way but to believe him.

"Albus and I had a bit of a disagreement," he says and avoids your eyes, just stares angrily at the wall behind you.

You hear the words, and it's to much for your fragile mind to comprehend.

 _Bang._ _Bang. Bang._ _Bang._

You hear your heart slamming in your chest.

 _I told you not to get too close._

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Heartbeats mix with voices in your head. You cover your ears with your hands – hoping it will calm the voices.

 _You knew he was playing with you all along._

 _No, he wasn't._

 _Yes he was._

 _Heaven._

 _He cares._

 _Hell._

 _He leaves you._

You bent your knees and pull them close to your body, then you embrace them with your arms and rock back and forth.

 _Back._

 _Forth._

 _Light._

 _He's gonna stay!_

 _Right! Right! Right!_

 _Back._

 _Forth._

 _Heaven._

 _He'll never come back!_

 _Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!_

 _Back._

 _Dark._

 _Hell._

 _Forth._

You taste blood spilling from the lip you bit on. All air is drawn from your lungs and you have trouble breathing.

You're trapped, in your room, in your house, in your life. And the only person who ever payed her company was about to embark on a quest and never come back.

Then, he carefully lifts your chin and teary blue eyes meet honestly brown ones.

"I will be back tonight," you hear his thoughtful and troubled voice through your tears as he hands you a small golden key, "I stole the key to your room. I will force Albus to let you go with me tonight."

 _Heaven._

…

By the time night has fallen, you use the key Gellert has given you and sneak out of the house.

You don't have the time to cherish the feeling of the cold stone floor on your bare feet, nor the way the wind brushes through your blond hair as you walk quickly around the corners that lead you to the front yard.

The scene that greets you lets your heart skip for a beat. Fear threatens to suffocate you as you watch Gellert and both your brothers shooting spells and curses at each other.

If the situation were different, you might have thought of the many colours that swirled through the air as beautiful. But the blood that covers the ground brings you back to reality in an instant.

 _Blood. Blood. Blood._

The voices are back and you crouch down behind a big old oak tree. The large greens leaves that are so stunningly illuminated by moonlight provide enough cover for you to just remain there and watch the scene.

Then, in only a short second, Gellet's brown eyes spot your small, crumbled and haunted vision behind the tree. There's anger, frustration, pain, and even fear written in them.

 _(that's what scares you the most)_

The haunted way he looks at you – it tells you everything you need to know.

Your brother still doesn't want to let you go. He still wants to control you, keep you in your room. He needs you to have someone to look down upon. He needs someone to stand in his shadow.

You hold Gellerts glance for as long as you can; before he turns his face to conentrate on the battle again.

But it is enough for you to understand what he wants to tell you. He offers you a chance to leave your hell behind.

 _(and you wordlessly thank him and take it gratefully)_

 _…_

And as you jump into the green-glowing curse, as you feel the stunning and unbearable pain in your chest, as your eyes meet your brother's for the first and last time in ages, as you see the faint glimmers of shock, frustration and desperation in them, you finally understand.

No one can ever tell heaven from hell.

It's a matter of perspective.

Someone's heaven might be another one's hell.

Just like you'll never see light without shadow there ain't no heaven without hell.

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 **...**

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 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry** | Auction event | 102. Colour – gold

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ||** Assignment 8 | Muggle History: American revolution | Task 9 – Peggy Schuyler: Write about someone living in their sibling's shadow

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry** || Scavenger Hunt | 15. Write using the genre tragedy.

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry** || Film Festival | The breakfast club | 42. Plot - Someone from an abusive home - Alt - Someone who is neglected/ignored

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Insane House Challenge | Gryffindor | 654. Dialogue - "She's crazy! Crazy…!"

 **Written for the Ultimate Writers challenge at HPFC** || Write either a crossgen or an incest fic | ArianaGellert

 **Words** : 3,072


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